Artist Statement

My current work explores the Nativity scene by painting from found figurines that portray its familiar cast of archetypal characters. These objects allow me to restage the story through the varied prefab inventions of popular imagery—reinterpreted, recomposed, and renewed in my paintings. My exploration began unexpectedly, with the discovery of a few stray Nativity figurines at a local thrift store. Finding two different baby Jesuses and a Wise Man inspired me to reassemble them into a new, composite family, initially for my own amusement. What started as a private collection soon revealed itself as a rich source material for painting. I think of it as a kind of spiritual dollhouse, and I plan to expand this collection indefinitely.

I am drawn to the symbolism of the divine child born in the humblest of places, to the interplay of the everyday and the mythic within the birth image and collectible objects, and to the distinctive details of each miniature figurine—both familiar and surprising. The presence of animals in the scene is particularly compelling to me. They seem to function as instinctive and grounding bodily presences within the spiritual narrative, balancing the scene both visually and conceptually. Their presence also punctures the high-mindedness of the atmosphere, introducing a subtle sense of humor and absurdity.

Working from a cast of figurines is like making a film in paint. They become my actors—or, in Robert Bresson’s words, my “models.” Like Bresson’s models, the figurines embody a kind of being rather than seeming—grounded, tangible presences that carry imagination and spirituality while allowing for a mixture of observation, physicality, and fantasy. In parallel, I think of color as an equally active force. Josef Albers described painting as “color acting,” with each color an “actor” and the composition its “performance.” My paintings bring these two ways of acting together—the figurines onstage and the colors that animate their drama.

In researching Nativity paintings, I’ve learned that they were often created as intimate devotional tools, encouraging believers to contemplate the birth of Christ as a path toward closer communion with God. To meditate on the Nativity was believed to awaken one’s own spiritual rebirth. I am inspired by this lineage, and by the possibility that painting today can hold a similar devotional function—offering renewal not only for myself as painter, but also for those who encounter the work. For me, this renewal is not dogmatic or prescribed by doctrine—but arises through an open-ended process of playing with “dolls” and wrestling with the unknown in the muckiness and mystery of paint. I imagine this as akin to Jungian sandplay therapy—a way of accessing the unconscious through free association and inventive discovery.

There is something strangely compelling, for me, in the desire to express the transcendent through objects so small and artificial—and in painting observationally from physical objects that resist naturalism. I seek out orphaned figurines, broken away from their original sets, and collage them together into new constellations—reassembling the family as a symbolic healing gesture. These cast-offs, mass-produced yet made singular through their estrangement, attempt to hold the infinite within the miniature and the domestic. They provide a metaphysical reference point while opening space for departure and transformation—offering a familiar form I can distort and recast into a kind of biblical jazz narrative, complete with crossover characters from other plotlines. This is a body of work I envision as an ongoing exploration, with many chapters still to come.